Hubby is visiting his brother in New York for a few days, so I have our country house to myself. I never do anything out of the ordinary when he’s not here (except sing out loud a little louder), and I’m always glad to have him return home when he’s been gone, but I do so love my time alone here.
Last night I sat up reading till about 11 PM, then as I was turning lights out on my way to bed, I glimpsed some stars outside. I walked out in my pajamas and sat on the porch. What a magical night to live in the middle of nowhere. A light breeze blew from the south, all the mosquitoes had gone to sleep, the stars were bright in the dark sky, and the air was filled with the racket of frogs, cicadas, and crickets. I remembered I was alive. I felt small and happy.
Not to sound too Thornton Wilder about it, but it’s this kind of night I’ll miss when I’m dead.